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I like Barbie movies becaus thay are relistik, Claire writes for a language arts lesson.

I correct spelling and ask, "Realistic? Why?"

"They do real things."

"Yeah, like fly," says John.

"Hush. I really want to know what Claire thinks. What about the love parts, Claire? Are the love parts realistic?"

"Yeah. One saves the other and after he does the saving he gets to keep her."

Hmm.

And this, "Mary was about our John's age when she had Jesus? You can have babies when you are a teenager? Wow! I can't wait!" This from Faith who has her whole heart set on a house filled top to bottom with children...a mom waiting to happen. "Well," she plans, "when I'm about seventeen, I'm going to Wal-Mart to find a boy who is nice to people and if I like him, he'll be my husband and I can hurry up and be a mom." These are the children we are entrusted with. These we must shape into suitable life partners. Whew!

They’re frayed with a gash above the hem and pockets that bulge out, those cargo shorts that Stuart was wearing on a day when we were going out.

“Are you going to wear those?”

“Yes.”

“But they're so ratty.”

“OK. I’ll change 'em.”

And he did. He changed into blue shorts with pockets that bulge out.

“Are you going to wear those?”

“Yes. I need to.”

“But there are bleach spots on the front. They’re not very good shape. You have nicer shorts.”

“I know.”

He changed, back into the first pair of shorts, and we went out the door.

Why couldn't he wear one of his better pairs? We’re going to spend all day together. I just love to look at him but, OH, those shorts.

We walked and held hands and the children shed, shed their hats and water bottles and sunglasses. The pockets in the cargo shorts made room for these things as the children dropped them or handed them to their Papa.

We walked. Single file. Mama in back, four goslings in the middle, Papa in front with a little one in his arms and his poc…

We were reading John 6 this morning and we came to the part where Jesus asked his disciples, "You do not want to leave me too, do you?"

Peter responded, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God."

The kids were impressed with Peter's answer. "How come Peter's like that, Mama? How can he be so awesome sometimes and so stupid at other times?

The power has been blinking on and off at our house for the past week and this is what I drew on for an explanation. "Well, it's kind of like the power around here. You know how everything is running fine and then the power blinks off and a few minutes later it comes back on? Peter is kind of like that. He has great faith but sometimes, under pressure, his faith shuts down for a little while. But the thing about Peter is that his faith, just like our power, always returns."

Her children rise up and call her blessed. Yeah, right. Maybe someone else's children do that. Not mine, and I wish they would stop rising so darn early. That would be a blessing. The thoughts that churned in this mother's heart when it beat stronger and surer a half decade ago when I was up to my eyeballs in diapers and sippy cups.

Today is Mother's Day. To celebrate, Claire drew me a card on a piece of notebook paper in church where she was informed by today's sermon that it is a significant day. Happy mothers Day, Mama! A bouquet of flowers drawn underneath. For lunch, we hit the McDonald's drive through (where the cashier wished me a Happy Mother's Day) and then went to Lowe's for home improvement materials (where an employee operating a fork truck said the same). It has been a great day.

I do mean this. Around here, every day is Mother's day. Not the saccharine, stress-inducing, sainted, card-bestowing, mother-worshipping kind of day. Thank goodness!…